


we'll get lost in our heads

by salvatorestjohn



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Augustine - Freeform, Eye Gouging, Heavy Angst, Hurt Damon Salvatore, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Plans For The Future, Vampires, not detailed though, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: Nine hours. Nine full hours of listening to Damon's agonized screams and cries of pain as he's poked and prodded and taken apart piece by piece. Of trying to block it out and not imagine what they're doing to him.But now it's silent.





	we'll get lost in our heads

For the first time in the nine hours that Enzo has been counting, everything's quiet. 

_Nine hours._ Nine full hours of listening to Damon's agonized screams and cries of pain as he's poked and prodded and taken apart piece by piece. Of trying to block it out and not imagine what they're doing to him.

But now it's silent. 

His stomach drops. It twists and clenches, tying itself up as he lifts his head. He tries to listen now, seeking out any little sign. It wouldn't be the first time they've accidentally killed one of their "experiments" by going too far, overestimating the healing abilities and how much blood they can survive on while being tortured within an inch of their life. 

It takes a second, his own senses a little fuzzy. Then he catches it. The weak thump of a heart beating, trying its best to keep its body alive with little to no help. 

His own heart thuds against his ribs loudly as the sound is accompanied by footsteps hitting against the stone ground, approaching from the back room. He stays where he is; huddled in the corner of his cell against the wall separating him from Damon's, his arms on top of his legs.

As the sounds get closer, he picks up the slight echo of quiet whimpers. His heart clenches but he keeps himself in the shadows, barely breathing himself. 

The footsteps come to a stop, so close. He listens as the cell next to him is unlocked. Barely three seconds later, there's the dull thud of a body hitting the hard concrete ground and another whimper, halfway into a winded groan of pain. 

The cell door is closed back over and there's the distinct sound of a key being turned, locking it back up once more. 

Enzo doesn't dare breath yet. He almost expects the footsteps to continue until he's faced with Dr Whitmore in that clean white lab coat of his, the twisted smirk spreading across his face as he tells him it's his turn. 

He doesn't. The footsteps head in the opposite direction, back towards the room in the very back. 

He breathes out, his eyes dropping closed for a second of relief. Then he's pushing himself forward on his hands and knees until he's by that little gap between his and Damon's cells, only four bars in the way. 

The sun has long since set, leaving only the dim flickering of the gas-lit lamps on the walls, but still, he can see him almost clear as day, right next to him. It's obvious Whitmore just dumped him and he didn't have the strength to roll himself further in. 

"Damon," he says softly, his eyes wide, sweeping over what he can see of him.

His face is hidden, buried against the ground, but the rest speaks for itself. His already blood-stained top is darker than it was before, he's sure, drenched in blood around the collar and his chest. Too much blood. 

Damon stays quiet, curled in on himself. He looks so small and fragile. The complete opposite of a vampire, of what he imagines he looks like out of a cell from all the descriptions of his life Damon has given him. 

It drives a stab of pain that might as well be a stake through his chest, the helpless feeling clawing at him. 

"Damon, sweetheart, look at me," Enzo tries, his voice barely a whisper, pleading with him. His throat is aching with worry and fear at the sight of him like this, at how unresponsive he's being. 

The relief is near overwhelming when Damon gives the smallest shake of his head, barely much movement at all, but enough. 

"I can't," he manages to breath out, though it's an obvious effort as his voice gasps and cracks over the two words. 

The relief quickly disapparates as Damon lifts his head at last. He barely tilts it towards him a few inches, but it's enough for Enzo to understand. A wave of nausea settles in his throat in the form of a lump. 

Both of his eyes look sunken-in, surrounded by dark, dried tracks of blood. The familiar blue that he's gotten used to seeing is nowhere to be found, only black and dark red that makes it look as if they've cut his eyes out completely. 

"What is their bloody obsession with our eyes?" Enzo says through clenched teeth, because it's the only thing stopping his voice from shaking.

"Oh, it was definitely bloody," Damon tries to joke, his lips twitching up at the corners ever so slightly. It doesn't last.

Enzo only manages a slight smile for his sake, glad that he at least hasn't fallen apart totally. The thought of watching them break him in such a way isn't one he thinks he can bear.

Taking in a quick breath, he ducks his head, blinking back the sting in his eyes. Then he drops completely to the ground, lying on his stomach to continue facing Damon. 

"They'll heal," he promises, despite knowing he doesn't need to. Damon's been doing this for three years, he knows how it goes. But he still has the need to assure him, to tell him everything will be alright and mean it.

Damon doesn't say anything. He's quiet again, his head lowering back to the ground. 

Enzo's heart clenches again just watching him, unable to do anything. At least if they were in the same cell he might be able to comfort him better.

His eyes dart down and he notices Damon's hand, resting palm-up in between the bars. Spotting the small comfort that he can give him, he doesn't hesitate to take it, intertwining their fingers. Damon's curl ever so slightly over his.

Enzo gives a gentle squeeze but he doesn't respond. His chest is barely rising. When he listens for his heartbeat, it's still just as weak as before, if not more, and it's terrifying Enzo to see him like this. 

It'll pass, he knows it has to; Augustine have to have learned from their past mistakes, surely there's no way they're stupid enough to torture one of their experiments to death again. 

He stares at their hands, pushing his thumb gently over Damon's skin. Still mulling over how he can possibly help, he closes his eyes. He relaxes as best he can, pulling on whatever strength he has left inside of himself. It's not a lot, but it's enough. It has to be.

He tries to clear his mind, sucking in a deep breath as he focuses. 

The air shifts around him, instantly easier to breathe in. It's lighter, unweighed down by the thick blanket of suffering and the smell of blood that had settled in the cells over the years. Still, a part of him falters before he opens his eyes. 

The sight around him confirms that it worked. 

Replacing the dreary walls of his cell are the roofs of buildings, stretching miles ahead of him underneath the dark night sky. Only a few stars creep through, bright and refusing to hide from the blinding lights of the usually bustling city that, according to Damon, never sleeps, making the night seem like day.

His eyes slide to his right, landing on Damon. He smiles, watching him blink up at the sky in amazement.

"You said you wanted to go back to New York, right?" Enzo asks softly, breaking Damon's daze and bringing his attention to him. He waves a hand out at the city beneath them. "Close enough?"

Damon huffs out a disbelieving, awed noise as his own smile grows. It's brighter than anything around them, and Enzo doesn't think he's ever seen even a sliver of this sort of happiness on him before. He wonders if there's a way to stay in his mind forever. It would be worth it not to see any of the pain or torment that he's so used to on Damon's face ever again.

"How are you even doing this?" Damon asks, casting his eyes back around them, turning slightly before glancing back over at him. Concern seeps into his features. "I've only done this once before, but... there's no way you have enough strength to hold this..."

"I've had eleven hours to regain my strength," Enzo says, his voice taking on a twinge of sadness that comes from deep in his chest, feeling it pluck like a string. Trying to brush it off, he tilts his head, feigning disgust for the most part as he adds, "and I may have gotten lucky with an unfortunate rodent that happened to choose the wrong basement to set up residence."

Damon's face lights up as his lip curls. "You ate a rat?"

"Alright, before you get judgy, do try and remember that we're literally being starved in a dungeon," he says with a roll of his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitch. "Can't exactly be picky. Besides, it's not like I enjoyed it."

"Oh, well you and Stefan are gonna get along amazingly," Damon says, obviously drawing out his amusement. "The two of you can exchange animal diet recipes. I'm sure he could give you a few tips, make the whole experience as if you're feeding on a human."

Enzo dips his head, staring at him with raised eyebrows and a fond smile. "Are you done?"

Damon pauses, considering. He inhales, then nods, giving a half-shrug as he lets it drop. Enzo just shakes his head as Damon turns his eyes back on the rooftops all around them, most of them a copy of the one they're standing on.

He watches him, stepping closer. Damon tilts his head back, staring up at the sky, and Enzo follows his gaze curiously.

"I haven't been here since the 1860s," he confesses on a breath out, his voice just as in awe as his expression had been moments before. It slowly slips back to it as he continues, "I didn't really see as much of as I wish I had. Stefan drama and being hunted by a murderous Original minion sort of threw a wrench in most of my plans. This was my favourite place though."

"Yes, I have been meaning to question that," Enzo says, deciding it better to skim over the rest of what he said and circle back to it at a later date. "Why exactly did you spend most of your time on a rooftop in the middle of one of the most beautiful cities? What, did you Americans not have any bars in the 1800s?"

Damon laughs at that. "No, there were plenty." 

He leans his head towards him, throwing a glance at him with a secretive sort of smugness. 

"Count DeSangue became very popular at all of them."

"Count _DeSangue_?" Enzo repeats dryly, raising his eyebrows at him again. "Could you be any more obvious?"

Damon's grin widens, pleased. "Hey, no one suspected a thing! I was just a handsome, mysterious Italian count who had some business to attend to, and was more than happy to entertain the locals."

"Yeah, I'm sure they had no problem entertaining you either," Enzo shoots back, amused. Damon just winks, and he shakes his head at him. "A count. I'm not even surprised. You would have fit the role perfectly."

"Why thank you."

"Still doesn't answer the question of why the mysterious, handsome _Count DeSangue_ would enjoy spending his time on a random rooftop when the entire city was probably at his feet, beckoning to his every call."

Damon raises his shoulder in a shrug, his eyes moving back to the sky. His smile settles, faint, but there.

"I suppose it was just nice to be away from everything," he explains. "There was no Stefan. No animalistic urges to rip out every throat I see and drain every artery in their bodies. It let me feel... human, I guess. Now—" Damon rolls his eyes as Enzo raises his eyebrows, "—bear in mind, this was all, like, twenty years after I had first turned, so I was still sort of in the whole I-hate-being-a-vampire-and-am-going-to-destroy-my-brother's-life-for-turning-me-into-a-bloodsucking-monster phase."

Enzo nods slowly, his mouth curving up into a brief hint of a smile. "Got it. But I would have understood even if a part of you still felt that way. About wanting to feel human, I mean. I still do at times."

Damon looks at him, the surprise showing on his face. 

"You do?" he asks. "But... I thought you said that your life sucked before you turned? No pun intended."

Enzo rolls his eyes but nods. "Yes, it did. But despite that, I do still miss that feeling of being human some of the time. It's only natural. Though, I certainly can't say I've ever had something like this that's made me feel like that. I see why you liked this city so much."

Damon hums and he looks back up at the sky. His smile twitches, something resembling a sad sort of happiness.

"It's still beautiful," he says quietly as his eyes shift back and forth, probably tracing the patterns of faint stars he can make out. He's probably the type to know the names of most constellations, Enzo thinks, but he doesn't bother to check. 

"Yes, it is," he says softly, his eyes never leaving Damon.

Damon turns his head back to him. Surprise flickers in his eyes as Enzo doesn't even bother to pretend to look away, but it's brief. He just raises his eyebrows a bit, his smile pushing it aside. 

"How exactly did you get this whole thing so perfect?" he asks, a curious lilt to his voice. "Did you have some interesting adventures in New York as well? Come on, you can't hold back on me with these things."

Enzo chuckles but shakes his head. 

"No, I've only been to Manhattan. Very short trip. I've never actually seen much of New York myself," he answers, and the surprise returns, if only for a second. He waves a hand vaguely to indicate their surroundings. "I just tried to remember everything you've told me. Though considering you mainly talked about sitting on a roof, I didn't exactly have much to work with in the moment."

"Well, this is pretty much exactly what it looked like it the 60s." Damon glances back up and around them, across the roofs scattered out in the distance. "Though I think that building over there was a bit taller. Nine out of then though."

Enzo tilts his head, shooting him a mock glare as he turns back to him with a wide grin. He just rolls his eyes at him, ignoring the warmth that slowly grows inside of him, wrapping around his heart. 

"I'm kidding, it's perfect," Damon assures him, knocking into his shoulder gently. "But we are definitely changing the whole you never seeing New York thing. I hear it's even brighter now. The city that never sleeps."

Enzo watches him walks away from him, crossing the roof with slow steps, his eyes still moving over the scene in front of them. He stops at the edge, craning his neck slightly to look down at the streets below. 

"What did you have in mind?" Enzo asks as he moves to join him. "Stage an escape?"

"Pretty much," Damon drawls as Enzo sidles up beside him, pressing slightly into his side. He looks at him, raising a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Wouldn't be too hard. When Dr Frankentorture comes to grab one of us from our cells, bite him, drain him of his blood, and bingo bango, we're free vampires."

"Would you like me to point out the obvious flaw in that plan or just go along with it?"

Damon rolls his eyes and waves his hand as if physically brushing it off.

"He doesn't ingest vervain," he says. "He only wears the stuff. So, snatch the watch, then bite him. See? Easy."

Enzo smiles at him and how casually he explains it. It's obviously been something he's been thinking about; Enzo can't say he hasn't either for the last thirteen years he's been locked up in that cell.

Despite the part of him that knows the slim chance of it actually working, a tiny spark of hope ignites in the pit of his stomach at the confidence in Damon's voice. It's clear just by his eyes that he believes it could work. 

"Alright," Enzo says, nodding. "Sounds like a plan. Then what? Steal a car, road trip our way up to New York?"

"Yep," Damon says, drawing the one word out with a pop at the end. "Pretty much. I mean, my goal is now officially to get you to New York. You have to see it at least once in your eternal life."

"Technically, I'm seeing it right now," Enzo points out.

He sends Damon an innocent grin as he stares at him blankly. 

"Well, then, more than what I can remember and more than whatever part of Manhattan you saw," he corrects with a roll of his eyes. "You need to see it in person."

"I'm in," Enzo says without a beat of hesitation, the two words far softer-sounding than he had intended. 

Damon turns his head to look at him, tilting ever so slightly. Their gazes lock, and it's there. The promise is built on the rocky, crumbling truth that they both know it'll never happen. But the hope that they're clinging to is bound around it, refusing to let it topple. They need to at least believe there's a chance. Enzo needs to believe.

"New York it is," he adds with a nod. "And how would you feel about adding somewhere else to that very short list?"

Damon's eyes brighten and narrow at the same time, his smile widening. He turns fully towards him, his gaze flicking up and down as if eyeing him.

"Hmm, let me see? How do I feel about spending _more_ time with you?" His head dips to the side and he pretends to think, his teeth catching his bottom lip for just a second. Then a smirk of a smile is pulling the corners of his mouth up. "I like the sound of that. But where exactly is this extra stop?"

Enzo smiles back and goes to open his mouth to answer, the name already on the tip of his tongue. Damon quickly stops him, eyes widening as he holds a hand up.

"Wait, let me guess... you want to take me back to your home. Some little village in England? Rolling green fields, a meadow of the most beautiful flowers, surrounded by trees. With horses. And sheep."

Enzo lifts an eyebrow at him and huffs out a laugh. 

"Oddly specific," he says slowly, and Damon just shrugs. "But no. Unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury of growing up in one of those quaint little villages. Workhouses were the closest I got to an actual home. Though there were a lot of horses passing by, I'll give you that. No sheep though."

Damon's smile slips, and Enzo can't say he's familiar with the concern that passes over his face. It's gone as quickly as it came, though replaced by something far more Damon-like and resembling determination.

"Alright, we're adding one more stop to our road trip," he decides. "I haven't seen England since the 80s anyway. Count DeSangue wasn't so popular there. But now, we can visit any city, town, or village we want. Could even buy a little cottage for vacations."

Enzo draws his eyebrows together, his amusement playing on his features. "A holiday cottage? That's rather serious, don't you think? Are you asking me to live with you?"

"Like we aren't already?" Damon says, gesturing his hand at him. "Might as well do it somewhere more comfortable. Besides, the cottage would only be for... you know, when we're in England."

"You make it sound like you plan on us sticking together for quite a while once we're out of this place," Enzo notes with a spark of something close to joy at the thought. 

Damon shrugs again, but his head tilts and he looks at him with curiosity in his eyes.

"Maybe I do," he says. He inhales deeply, shaking his head as he glances away for a brief moment. "I mean, it's not like I've really got anyone else, even once I'm out of here. And you don't sound like you really have that many other options either."

He looks back at him, holding his gaze. 

"Why not just extend the trip? See what we get up to out there, go anywhere we want. Just the two of us."

Enzo breathes out a sort of hum of a laugh. The warmth that had been slowly building from the middle of his stomach has grown, fully enclosing his heart, reaching across every soft spot in his chest. It's strange, and unfamiliar, and not even something he remembers from when he was human.

It's new, and it's Damon. That's all he needs to know to know that he likes it.

"I like the sound of that," he admits softly, his eyes moving between Damon's.

"Yeah?" Damon's face definitely lights up at least enough for him to notice the shift. "It's settled then. New York, whatever village we find first in England, and...?"

"Cape Horn," Enzo supplies. "Beautiful little island. Never been myself, but I'd love to go. You in?"

Damon glances down, his lips parting just barely as he lingers, then flicks his gaze back up to meet his eyes. 

"I'm in," he says.

Enzo smiles right back, and it's all he can do not to move forward. The tug in his chest is strong, and he can't help but think about it, considering it. They're only in his head, he knows, but it feels so real.

"Glad to hear it, sweetheart," he says quietly.

He doesn't miss how Damon's eyes soften right away, or how he seems to try and bite back his smile. 

"You know, if you keep calling me that, I'm gonna end up thinking you like me," he says, a joking edge sticking through but not enough to burst the sincerity. "Even as Count DeSangue, no one in England called me that. Though that may have something to do with me being framed as Jack the Ripper."

Enzo's head tilts, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. Recognition registers in the back of his mind, and he's aware of why Damon has looked vaguely familiar this entire time. 

Damon waves it off with a shake of his head and a look of displeasure. 

"Long story. Super boring, and not at all what I wanna talk about right now."

Enzo lets it drop but definitely makes a mental note to ask about that as well at some point. 

"Luckily there will be plenty of time for you to fill me in on all of your adventures on our road trip," he says. "Who knows, maybe you could become a Count again. You'd make a fine one, too. I'm sure everyone would love Count Salvatore."

"Would you love Count Salvatore?" Damon questions, his head tilting as he raises his eyebrows in an act of innocence.

Enzo's stomach swoops. They're in his head, what's a better opportunity than that?

He takes a tiny step forward and brings a hand up to the side of Damon's neck, his palm resting against his skin. A part of him wonders if he would feel this warm in person; the less human blood they ingest, the colder their skin. 

He brushes his thumb over his jaw, tracing the line down. Unscarred, not a trace of blood or pain.

Damon leans into his hand, and Enzo breathes in, moving his eyes back to hold his gaze. 

"I already do," he answers easily, shaking his head, "whether you're a count, or vampire, or even human. I'm certain I would love Damon Salvatore in any and every form. But especially this one."

His pulse jumps underneath Enzo's fingertips. He looks back at him, slightly wide-eyed, and Enzo can only smile, watching him. How his lips part, and the way his shoulder rises underneath his hand as he sucks in a breath. His tongue drags across his bottom lip as he nods slowly. 

"Alright, good answer," he breathes out. 

"You know, now's the part where you tell me you love me as well, and then we kiss, and we have a moment."

Damon raises his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth quirk up. "Is that so?"

Enzo gives a half-hearted shrug, casting his eyes to the side. 

"Or so I've heard anyway," he says, his thumb still absentmindedly moving along Damon's cheek. "But I am well aware of your aversion to expressing your feelings, so if you don't—"

The rest of his sentence turns into a noise of surprise, quickly extinguished by Damon's lips on his. He doesn't hesitate, kissing him gently, his own movements careful and soft as an image of Damon's real-life situation flickers in the back of his mind. 

It doesn't seem to be affecting Damon at all in their little New York bubble of peace as he kisses him back. 

He's aware of Damon's fingers gently curling around his wrist, leaning into his every touch. 

Everything else has already faded away, and Enzo wants nothing more than to stay here forever. In this perfect moment, no cells, no Whitmore, no experiments. Just plans for road trips, and sitting on a rooftop in the middle of New York, and parading around as counts. Together.

The tips of his fingers brush along Damon's skin, a smile finding its way into the kiss. His eyes stay closed even as their lips stop moving, merely brushing now, their foreheads pressed together. There's a tug in his chest. The second he opens his eyes, this is over. 

"I love you," Damon says softly against his lips, turning the three words into another soft kiss. 

There's a slight pressure on his hand. It's not at his wrist though, where Damon's still holding onto in this world. Forcing a deep breath in, he opens his eyes. 

The snapshot of New York dissolves into dark, damp walls, only a sliver of light cast around the cell. He looks at his hand, their fingers still intertwined. 

Damon's curl a little more around his, giving another weak squeeze. It's stronger than it had been before though. 

His gaze falls on Damon through the gap in the wall. He's still curled up in the same position as before, except Enzo can see most of his face now rather than only a part. 

To his relief, his eyes look somewhat better. They're still sunken and covered in dried blood, but they're starting to regain a touch of white, and just a hint of the blue that Enzo so desperately wants to see. Within a few hours, they'll have healed completely. 

The knowledge of that has Enzo relaxing, the coils that had formed in his stomach loosening slightly.

"Thank you, Enzo," Damon says, his voice still scratchy and too quiet and cracked, especially after hearing him talk with his usual charming drawl. Still, he shifts around a little to look at him better, and Enzo realizes he's regaining some of his strength.

He smiles, forcing any of the unhappy emotions not to shine through. 

"Thank me when we're in New York," he says. "Sitting on that rooftop for real, watching the city beneath us. All those bright lights and the people who adore Count Salvatore."

Damon's mouth curves up at that, a familiar ghost of a smile as he huffs out a broken laugh. 

"They'll adore the both of us," he says, and squeezes his hand again. "We're a package deal. I'm just thinking about how we're getting from Cape... where it is you said, to England."

"Cape Horn, sweetheart," Enzo says with a soft smile. "And we'll find a way. Together."

Damon hums in agreement. Enzo rests his chin on his arm, looking through the bars at him with fondness as he looks back. It makes him sure of one thing. They'll get out of this. They'll escape, just like they said. They will have all those plans and more.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I continue to write heartbreak and angst for these two?? Like, a good 75% of my ideas for fics about them are just chock-full of angst, it's really a problem. I want them to be happy, I swear!! But please feel free to tell me if you liked this! Feedback is always super motivating! ❤


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